


four left turns

by awilliamson81



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, No Timeline, collection of moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:25:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awilliamson81/pseuds/awilliamson81
Summary: A collection of wanna-be scenes involving Dan & Amy. They do not follow a timeline, but could be connected if you squint.





	four left turns

**Author's Note:**

> These two often pop into my head, but I do not have the fortitude to write whole, solid stories. This seems to be my preferred style. If you are looking for a timeline, you won't find one because it makes my brain hurt. I like having fun with these two way too much to make it feel like work. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

 

She has a fucked up relationship with food. They all notice it. Sue calls her on it. He tries not to make a big deal out of it because she doesn’t like all that attention on her.

When they have a quiet moment, just the two of them, she sometimes feels the need to say out loud every morsel of food she’s shoved into her face that day. It must help her in some backwards way and he doesn’t question it. What she deems “a lot” of food is never even near what he would call a lot and he makes it a point to tell her so. She usually brushes him off and moves on to more relevant topics, but he is always left wondering if she does that with anyone else.

_______

A picture of Amy and Ed dancing at Catherine’s party shows up online amongst many other pictures taken that night. Dan _doesn’t_ obsess over it, but everyone’s noticed (and mercilessly ridiculed) the amount of times he’s **_not_ **looking at it on his desktop, laptop or phone.

Jonah covers Dan’s desk with what appears to be hundreds of copies of that picture.

When Selina strolls out of her office yelling for Mike, she stops short at the sight. “What the breathing fuck?”

She hates the picture and Jonah, but she has to admit it’s hilarious.

_______

“Just fucking dance with me. Jesus _Christ_ , Amy.” He grabs her arm and pulls her away from the open bar and the glass of vodka she was about to _savor_.

“What the shitting hell, _Dan_ ?” She clomps behind him ungracefully because he’s _pulling_ her towards the crowded dance floor and her legs are much shorter than his.

He pulls her to him and rests his hands on her waist as he begins to sway with her. “We look like fucking idiots not dancing.” She rolls her eyes at him and clasps her hands behind his neck.

“You look like a fucking idiot all the time,” she mumbles. “This is stupid.”

“No, Amy. This is a photo-op and a chance to perpetuate the ‘will they won’t they’ thing that keeps attention on us.” He does a quick scan of the room to see if anyone is taking notice. “When people stop paying attention, they stop caring, and when they stop caring, we might as well slit our throats.”

“You first.” She smiles sweetly up at his dumbfuck face.

He quickly decides to change the subject before they get caught in the _kill yourself_ loop once again. “What was _Leon West_ talking to you about earlier?”

She relaxes into him a bit more and huffs out a laugh. “Selina’s garbage. He thinks there’s a story there.” This elicits a genuine chuckle from him.

“Yeah, a major fucking headline. VP’s Bagman Takes Head Out of Ass Long Enough To Think He Knows What He’s Doing.”

“Yeah, that is way too long for a headline… just another thing you suck at,” she yawns, “the way she reacted was super weird though…”

“Am I boring you?” His lips are straight, but his eyes are teasing.

“Always,” she says around another yawn, “and I haven’t slept in 36 hours.”

“Well, suck it up, Buttercup. We have asses to kiss.” He pulls her right up against him and lets her slump on him a bit. The visual is spectacular; perfect for photos. Her breasts don’t feel so bad either.

She rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes for a moment because they hurt and she’s tired and he’s warm.

Of course that’s the photo that makes it online.

_______

He _appreciates_ the shape of her. She has so many curves from any and all angles. It’s refreshing to be around a woman that isn’t all sharp edges and bony hips. Seriously, what are they (not) feeding the women in this town? Not that there's anything wrong with the numerous skin bags littering the streets of DC, it’s just that he’s had his fair share and he finds himself staring at her curves more and more, wanting to run his hands along the slope of her waist down to her hips and back around to that ass.

He makes the mistake of telling her she has a fantastic figure one night after he’s had one too many and she laughs in his face. “This from the guy that once told me I look like a Cabbage Patch doll.”

He rubs his face because yeah, he did say that. “I _meant_ you looked young.” He lets that hang in the air between them because he doesn’t actually know what he meant when he said that. He knew she wouldn’t like it and that was really his only motivation.

Hey, if she’s going to swing her her pigtails in his face, he’s going to pull them.

“I _was_ young!”

“Yeah, we both were, but we’re not anymore.” He motions to the bartender for two more.

“Thank fuck for that.”

He takes a long drink from his water and slides it in front of her for her to do the same. “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

She doesn’t tell him no.

_______

One of his favorite things about working with her is watching her turn Jonah down over and over. He almost has to give the guy credit for being so persistent.

“Amy, my house is being fumigated. Do you think I could-”

“Fuck off, Jonah.”

 

*

 

“A-meee, mmm mmm mmm...that is one fine looking-”

“Fuck off, Jonah.”

 

*

 

“Amy, seriously, you and me and some-”

“Cyanide? Seriously, fuck off, Jonah.”

 

*

 

“Amy fucking Brookheimer, I wanna drink your bath water!”

That one makes the entire office come to a grinding halt. If it were television, you would hear a record scratch. Amy’s face is...priceless.

He takes Jonah by the arm and escorts him out of their office. Apparently Jonah had a liquid lunch and lost what little filter he had.

_______

 

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to send you back to the couch.” She’s lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling.

He settles on his side facing her and studies the way her t-shirt hugs her _braless_ form. “Your mattress sucks.”

“Is it better than the couch?” She grabs the remote and turns on the tv, quickly turning down the volume. “C-Span or reruns of the Honeymooners?”

He doesn’t even question why those are his only two options. “Honeymooners.” He shifts closer to her and plays with the hem on the sleeve of her shirt.

She goes very still, trying not to breathe too heavily. When she turns her head to look at him, he puts his arm across her stomach and pulls her closer. “ _Dan_ ,” she warns. “You know I can’t sleep all tangled up…”

“Just until we fall asleep,” he promises. He spreads his hand out against her waist and flexes his fingers until they’re under her, dipping into the back of her shorts. He closes his eyes and he’s asleep faster than she can find it in her to panic about what might happen next.

She sets the timer on the TV and concentrates only on her breathing and not the weight of his arm or the feel of his hand on her skin.

_______

He meanders into her office and she actually _smiles_ up at him from her laptop.

“You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

“You told me to come here, like, 30 seconds ago and I’m nothing if not obedient.”

“Not even close to a word I would use to describe you.” She motions towards one of the guest chairs for him to sit down.

He looks like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but sits across from her anyway. “Okay, before you go all A-Bomb Amy on me, I didn’t tell her she _should_ call you just that she _could_ call you-”

“What? No that’s not- what?” Her face crumples into a confused scowl.

“This isn’t about Jenn?”

“Who the fuck is- you know what? I don’t care.” She waves off his bullshit and tries to keep the smile plastered onto her face. “Uh, yeah… I need you to, um… I need you to come home with me...”

He relaxes into the chair more and checks his phone. “No problem. You wanna get drinks first? Maybe pick up food?” It’s not like she’s never requested this of him. Or him of her. They don’t have the kind of work hours normals do and they sometimes have to keep going long into the night. It’s easier if they’re under the same roof and that roof isn’t always attached to a government building.

“…to my parent’s house.” She cringes, waiting for the flat out refusal.

He studies her for a moment. “You _need_ me to or you _want_ me to?” He can’t fight the amused smile inching its way onto his lips.

She takes a deep breath and her shoulders tense all the way up to her ears. Her words are clipped like she’s irritated, but not with him, “I _need_ you to.” Her cheeks pink a bit. “Wait, you’re not even going to ask _why_?”

“I assume you have a good enough reason if you’re asking me to come home to your parents with you. What is it, dinner or something?” He puts his phone away to devote his attention to this interesting turn of...whatever. “I’m not putting a baby in you.”

She ignores that comment and speaks slowly, annunciating every word carefully as if she’s about to lose her shit, “It is their wedding anniversary and they are having a large party and they haven’t- they won’t stop- I need to bring someone. A _man_ .” She finally meets his eyes which are… full of fucking _mirth_.

“Sure, if you think it’ll get them off your back for awhile.” He shrugs.

She’s so thankful he _understands_ without her having to explain her awful, pain in the ass (love them!) family. I mean, he did get to experience them full-on in the hospital which, she assumes, is where the baby comment came from. “I’ll owe you one.”

“Of course you will. Why else would I do this?” He gets up to leave.

“Wait, who’s Jenn?”

“Oh, she doesn’t believe you’re my girlfriend. Thinks I’m making you up just to get rid of her.”

“Well, I am very real and very _not_ stupid enough to be your girlfriend.”

“She doesn’t know that.” He winks at her as he backs out of her doorway.

_______

She’s fired up about Candi Caruso again and very, very inebriated. When he finally convinces her to leave the bar because she’s getting way too loud and drawing way too much attention to their group, she lets him take her to his place.

When they get in the door she starts stripping off her shoes and coat and he assumes she’ll stop there but she doesn’t. She is pacing around his apartment, ranting about Candi and unbuttoning her shirt. He tries in vain to stop her but she won’t quit raving like a lunatic long enough to listen to him.

Her shirt is open, exposing her black lacy bra and he’s staring because _fuck_ decorum. She’s not listening to him and her tits are big and round and he misses... big tits.

She’s pulling her shirt out of her skirt when she stops and asks for water. He takes the reprieve to offer her some of his clothes. (He knows it’s the right thing to do).

“Ame, why don’t you go put on one of my t-shirts?”

“When did it get so _hot_ in here?” He guesses that’s a response? She pulls her shirt off clumsily and reaches around her back to remove her bra and he physically stops her. If she strips in front of him while she’s drunk, she will hate herself so much that she’ll hate him (even more than she does now).

“I’ll get you some water. Go in my room and put on some of my clothes.” He turns her towards his room and gives her a gentle shove in the right direction. “I don’t care what you wear, just please for the love of _Christ_ put something on.”

She makes her way into the bedroom, but not before asking him if she’s really that repulsive. “If I was Candi Caruso you would be using your dick as a compass!”

He’s not even sure what the hell that means. But, for once he doesn’t take the bait. Not like this, he won’t.

After he’s given her an appropriate amount of time, he enters the room with a glass of water and finds her face down on the bed, topless, wearing a pair of his boxer briefs.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He whimpers instead and debates taking a picture, but ultimately knows that would be a dick move. So, he settles for staring longer than he should because side boob.

He leaves the water on the bedside table and turns off the light as he closes the door. It’s not the first time he’s given up his bed to her and it probably won’t be the last.

_______

Mike throws up on her.

He had too many sketchy looking empanadas from the corner deli at lunch. She told him, she _told_ him not to chance it because they had the thing tonight, but did he listen? No. Do they ever? _NO_.

This is how she ends up in a supply closet with Dan wearing only the slip she had on under her brand new, very expensive dress and thigh highs. Gary pushed her into the closet before anyone saw and helped her strip off the dress while Dan laughed. Gary is now currently washing her dress in the men’s bathroom while Mike is in the same bathroom emptying his guts.

“This is a good look for you,” he points out with almost no inflection.

She’s pacing in the small space, but stops to stand in front of him, hands on hips. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

“Moral support.” He leans his back against the wall. “Also, I didn’t get to tell you about the lunch I had with Jonah today.”

She resumes her pacing. “Are you two going steady now?”

“He wishes.” The corner of his lip ticks up. “He said he has some very interesting video of you from the other night when we were at that Irish place with the stupid name.”

“I wasn’t aware yetis were capable of operating- wait, Jonah was _there_?”

Yeah, she was inebriated. On the walk home, they had to duck into an alley so she could get sick. She’s capable of holding her own hair, fuck you very much, but Dan gathered it in his hands while encouraging her to get it all up. Not her proudest moment, but not her worst either. She’s a grown woman that can handle her liquor, but Irish Car Bombs are a whole separate level of hell. She felt like a fucking amateur.

“Only for the last, like, 15 minutes. So, I’m sure he got the really drunk stuff.” She doesn’t seem too worried so he drops the subject. “When did you start wearing these?” He bends towards her and grazes his finger along the lace clinging to her thigh.

She looks down at her legs and shrugs. “I wear them sometimes. The good ones are expensive so…”

“I’ve never seen you wear them. I like ‘em.”

She swallows her sarcastic comment suggesting she only ever dresses with him in mind. He would probably tell her there’s a little truth to every joke. She’s sure he’s seen his share of women in thigh highs, but she stuffs down that comment as well. She decides on honesty because he’s staring at her lower half and why the fuck not. “They make me feel a little dirty, like I’m about to be starring in a porno at any given moment.”

His eyes shoot up to meet hers and Gary opens the door with her slightly damp dress in hand. “I did the best I could, but I really need to get back to Selina now before-”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Thank you so much, Gary.” The words tumble awkwardly from her mouth. She’s not used to thanking people and hates it.

The dress is too damp to wear and she feels like screaming.

The look on her face prompts him to reach out and grab the dress. “I’ll go get my coat and you can duck out.”

She regains her composure and thanks him. She’s reached her quota of thanks for the month. “You have to stay here though, for the thing, or she will start setting fires.”

“No _shit._ ”

Before he leaves the room she stops him and asks why he’s being so nice to her.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Could be the stockings, could be that you’ll owe me one.” And with that he leaves her in the room alone to stare at the beige wall and boxes of pens. 

These favors are stacking up and she doesn’t like it.

_______

She walks into her office to find Mike, Gary, and Dan… doing what could only be described as lazing about. Dan is in her chair, Mike is sitting on her windowsill, and Gary is in one of the guest chairs.

They all erupt with a much warmer welcome than any of them have ever given her.

She is more than a little suspicious. “Am I dying?”

Dan swings back and forth in her chair and looks mighty smug as he addresses her, “Settle something for us, Ames. Who knows you best?” He motions between the three clowns leaving ass prints on her stuff and raises his eyebrows like he already knows the answer. If she had to bet, she’d put money on him being the one to start this little debate they seem to be having.

“Uhhmm what… the fuck?”

“I’ve known you the longest.” Gary points out. That’s because she’s known Selina the longest.

She holds her hands up, phone clutched in her fingers and stares at each of them incredulously. When they all just look back at her expectantly, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and lets it out _very_ slowly.

She doesn’t understand this or care to, but Selina is having lunch with Catherine and she supposes she can fuck off for a few minutes before she dives back into reading Mike and Dan’s latest rewrite of the speech for the thing. (Speech is generous. It’s like they picked words out of a hat).

“Okay, uhh… who has a key to my house?”

They all raise their hands. Right.

“Who has... slept in a bed with me?”

They all raise their hands. Shit. Right. Campaigns are so fucking weird. This could go on forever because they all know each other on some fucked up levels. No one should ever know their co-workers this well, but this is politics so it’s _different_.

“She’s thrown up on me.” Gary points out and she rolls her eyes. She’ll never live that down.

“I’ve thrown up on her.” Why Mike sounds almost proud of that is worrying. He ruined her brand new fucking dress.

She looks at Dan expecting him to tell them about the time he held her hair after she drank too much, but instead he holds her gaze, “I’ve seen her naked.”

She purses her lips and tips her head to the side as if to say, _really_?

Mike covers his mouth and does that stupid thing where he turns pink and _giggles_.

Gary laughs so uncomfortably she feels bad for him. “Uhhh… _inappropriate_ ? Am I _right_?”

Still holding her gaze, he decides it’s a good idea to continue. “I’ve met her family, been to her house for Thanksgiving, used her soap _and_ her toothbrush, and I bet I can tell you what color underwear she’s wearing.”

“That’s not- I don’t even-” She can’t form a proper sentence because there are _so many_ things she wants to say.

“Black.” He winks at her and her face puffs out a bit.

“Dan!” “Is he right?” Gary and Mike say (respectively) simultaneously.

“Go… fuck off to wherever you’re actually supposed to be and do some real, you know... _work_.”

Gary and Mike both visibly start at her tone, but Dan isn’t stirred.

She stares him down while the other two bozos slink out of her office, discussing what they’ll order for lunch. “You’re in my chair.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

She smiles triumphantly. “No, no you are _not_...they’re red.”

His face falls for a split second, but he knows her too well. He stands and moves around her to leave but she hears him say “no they’re not,” as he walks through the doorway.

He’s right, goddamn him straight to hell.

_______

He waits until they pull out of the parking garage to tell her she was born to lobby. She shrugs and her face does that self-satisfied thing that makes him want to take it back immediately.

“I think Sydney wants to fuck you.”

“Jesus, he’s more of a weasel than you are. His face _literally_ looks like a mentally handicapped person drew a weasel.” She’s smiling when she says it. “ _I_ wanna fuck me I’m so great at this.”

She laughs. She fucking _laughs_. And it’s not that manic panic, standing on the edge of a cliff laugh. This is real fucking laughter.

He’s not sure how to handle _this_ Amy so he leans in to her mood to test his boundaries. “Make that three of us.”

She smirks and her eyes slide to him for a brief moment before refocusing on the road. Her voice lowers a bit, but it’s still playful when she replies. “I might fuck both of you just to say thank you for the extra zeros in my bank account.” She’s in rare form and he feels like indulging her.

“Can I at least go first?”

“Ask nicely.”

“No fucking way.”

She sighs and it seems her mood might be leveling off and he doesn’t want playful Amy to be gone so soon. He leans closer to her so he’s speaking directly into her ear, “will you please _fuck_ me…” He’s going to finish the asinine question. He really is. But he can’t bring himself to ask her if she’ll fuck him _before_ Sydney Purcell. Even if they _are_ messing around. He didn’t mean for it to sound so… rough? He thought he was joking, but the thought of Sydney and… ah, fuck. What is he getting himself into?

She smirks again and goddammit he hates that she’s turning into the perfect fucking match for him. He doesn’t believe in that shit.

“If I thought you were serious, I would make a left here and head towards your place. But you’re not so…” she turns on her right turn signal and he, without thinking, reaches across her to push the turn signal down.  

She raises her eyebrows at him it’s his turn to smirk.

She turns left to call his bluff.


End file.
